Master of the King
by Kanotari
Summary: As Integra ages, her control of Alucard wanes, and so she turns to her family and finds a new master for Alucard. The only problem is he's a bratty eleven-year-old boy with more destructive tendencies than Alucard himself. When ghosts of events past threaten the Hellsing Organization from within, Alucard and his masters, past and present, must work together or perish.
1. The Young Master

**I have always wondered what was to become of Alucard after Integra's death. Would his curse pass on to her next living relative, or would he be free? This story, set thirty years after the fall of Millennium and just months after Alucard's return, attempts to explore that idea. **

**For those of you concerned that this will impact **_**Flesh and Blood**_** updates, don't worry. **_**F&B**_** will still update weekly (hopefully on Thursdays).**

**As always, please let me know what you think. I appreciate all reviews and PMs, anything that gives me feedback. It helps me be a better writer and you get a better fic. Win/win, right?**

**Thank you to my lovely beta, AnnaVance92.**

**-Kano**

* * *

"For the love of all that is holy, Alucard! What is your problem with fast food?" Integra muttered to herself as she stood in the wreckage of the discount burger joint. Her mood was not improved by the charred leaf of lettuce that fell from the dilapidated sign onto her brand-new blazer, nor was it improved by the packets of ketchup on the floor which burst under her feet with each step. The once-stable discount vendor had been utterly annihilated with superhuman strength. It looked as though a small bomb had gone off inside, quite literally. There was a crater in the cheap linoleum flooring, and the ceiling tiles appeared to have been launched through the gaping hole in the roof.

"This is the last straw," she muttered. Ever since Alucard's strange merger with the Nazi Schrodinger, she could feel her ancestor's curse beginning to lift. He could resist her commands more easily, and had taken full advantage of that fact. Alucard was a menace to society when under her complete control. Now... he was beginning to get too dangerous, and she wasn't the only one who noticed it. Representatives from the Queen's office had contacted her twice now, suggesting that she "cage the beast" or "use a tighter leash." She had done her very best to reign in the vampire who both made her life worth living and vexed her at every possible moment, but the destruction before her... it was a sign.

Integra's hand slipped into her pocket and pulled out a tatter scrap of paper. Ten digits were hastily scrawled on it. Her other hand fished around in her jacket until her fingers closed around the cold object she was looking for: her cell phone. Her fingers paused mere centimeters from the keypad. Yes, Alucard was rambunctious, but he had saved her life more times than she could count. He wasn't the nicest of people, but she had seen evil, and he wasn't it. Did he really deserve the punishment she was about to inflict upon him?

She looked through the cracked glass windows of what had once been a restaurant. Alucard might have developed a soul in his lifetime with her, but he certainly hadn't developed restain. With a sigh and a heavy heart, her fingers danced across the keys. Her toe tapped impatiently as she waited for the person on the other end of the line to pick up.

"Hello?" came the response at long last.

"Hello Justine!" Integra replied. "I'm in the neighborhood, and I thought I might stop by for a visit with my dear cousin."

* * *

Integra barely managed to get one foot out of her car before she was wrapped in the tanned arms of her cousin Justine.

"At least let me out of the car," Integra wheezed through the iron grip of the other woman's freckled arms.

"Sorry," Justine said, releasing her cousin. "I got a little carried away."

The blonde woman couldn't help but smile; Justine hadn't changed one bit. The girl had been excitable and full of passion, even back when they were children. "I'm used to it," Integra said with a laugh, stepping out of the black sedan.

"Where are my manners?" Justine wondered as she brushed the hay off her overalls. "Come inside and I'll get you some tea."

Justine Temperance Allard led Integra away from the dusty road, past a corral of lowing cows, and into a quintessential farmhouse, complete with a porch swing. Two german shepherds barked at the approaching visitor from the half-opened Dutch door.

"Down Kip! Down Riley!" Justine commanded as the dogs dashed about her legs, trying to worm their way out the door to give Integra's boots a thorough sniff. The farm wife managed to hold them back long enough for Integra to make it inside. The Hellsing director crouched down and held out her hand for the pooches. After a quick sniff they sauntered away, tails wagging, content that the blonde woman was no threat to their territory.

"Sorry about that," Justine sighed, apologizing for the second time that day.

Integra held up her hands, saying, "It's fine. I don't remember you having dogs."

"I got them last year. They're still puppies, you know." Then Justine's smile faded and her expression grew concerned. "I hoped that they would help Braven, but..."

"Ah yes, Braven. How is the boy doing?"

"The dogs didn't help," the concerned mother sighed. "He never leaves his room, and I'm beginning to think that's a good thing!"

Integra raised an eyebrow. How was the boy's social reclusiveness good?

Justine slid a newspaper across the table toward her cousin. Integra had to squint a bit to read it; her vision had suffered as she grew older, and the eyepatch certainly didn't help. The headline screamed "BARN FIRE RULED AS ARSON." She remembered seeing the burned-out shell of the very barn pictured on her way here. The date in the upper right read 'March 21, 2029.' Ah, the article was a week old. Integra's eyes dashed across the article, skimming it quickly. From what she could gather, the police found the remains of several dogs inside, though the owner escaped with his life.

"Braven did this?" Integra asked, rather taken aback. She remembered holding Braven just a week after his birth. The little tiny thing always demanded to be held, craved attention and simply loved being around people. What had changed?

"Not just this, I'm afraid," Justine confirmed. "He stole a jewelry box from under an old woman's bed, left accusatory letters for the family of a man killed in a car accident. He's dug up graves in the dead of night... Do you know that the police won't answer calls from our house anymore? Braven called them so many times with the strangest of stories that they refuse to listen to him anymore. What if a real emergency happens? I'm at wit's end here, Integra."

The Hellsing director smiled benevolently and reached across the table to pat her cousin's hand in a comforting manner. "What if I took him off your hands?"

"Braven?" Justine asked, confused.

"Yes Braven! Who else?" Integra said with a laugh. "He can stay with me, come to work at the office... maybe he'll like the big city."

"It's about the only thing I haven't tried," Justine admitted. "My husband wanted to send him to military school!"

Integra noticed that her cousin had avoided the question. It was no matter. She had cleared her schedule for the day for this express reason; there would be plenty of time to convince Justine. So she played along. "Thom? Oh how is he?" she inquired.

Justine suddenly smiled widely. "You mean Wing Commander Thomas Allard?"

"The navy promoted him! Congratulations!"

As quickly as the smile had come, it faded. "Maybe Braven would have turned out a little... nicer if Thom wasn't always off saving the world."

"I'm sure he's very proud of his father," Integra admonished.

"You haven't heard the way he talks about his father," Justine shot back. As if she realized that the subject was volatile, she changed topics. "So... you're staying for dinner, right?"

"Sure," Integra agreed, accepting the invitation.

"I'll barbeque us up some fresh tri-tip. Just butchered the cow this morning."

Integra laughed weakly and tried to sound enthusiastic as she said, "Oh really?" As a rule, she tried forget that most of her meals came from live animals, not that it was an easy feat with Alucard at the other end of the table loudly slurping a glass of blood.

"Fresh corn too!" Justine added. "I'll go fire up the grill. Would you see if Braven would like to eat with us? Maybe a new face will have a better chance at getting him out of that dark room..."

Integra nodded, and got up from the table.

"Up the stairs. Second door on the right," she heard Justine shout from outside.

The stairs were a little creaky, though solid, but their noise gave away her presence before she could even make it to Braven's room. She heard the click of a lock before she even made it to the landing. Even if Justine hadn't told her which room to look for, Integra could have spotted it from a mile away. She could see glue marks where Braven had presumably put up signs, only to be ripped away by his mother, or so Integra assumed. She could even see where he had scratched 'Keep Out' into the wood, despite Justine's attempts to paint over it.

Her hand closed over the handle, and predictably, it didn't budge. Integra shrugged, reaching into her hair and producing one silver bobby pin. If the boy was going to come to live with her, and she wasn't taking no for an answer, then he would just have to learn to deal with a lack of privacy. It was a simple lock, one that any person could pick if they stuck in a bit of metal and wiggled it around a bit. The door swung open, leaving Integra feeling a little proud, and a little apprehensive.

"Get out."

Integra should have expected that greeting. The door specifically told her that she was not welcome, not that she cared. And now, so had the eleven-year-old lounging on the bed.

Alucard's future master was playing video games. His eyes were glued to the game device attached to his wrist, where little holographic figures darted about shooting at each other. His crop of unruly blonde hair fell into his eyes, which made Integra wonder how he could even see what he was playing. Around him was a mound of empty chip bags. The clothing, scattered about the messy room, smelled just as stale as the crushed chip bits that clung to their foil wrappings. Slowly, he turned his head, abandoning his game to stare at the intruder who hadn't budged an inch.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, and-"

"Bit full of it, aren't you?" he intoned as he rapidly lost interest. "Just leave me alone."

"I'm your aunt, well... first cousin, once removed to be correct."

"You're totally a doctor," he spat, rolling away from the door and showing his unwelcome visitor his back.

"Actually I fight vampires for a living."

That got his attention. Braven slowly, cautiously, turned back to her, regarding her skeptically. "And a liar too."

Integra rolled her eye. She peeled back her eyepatch to reveal the gruesome wound underneath. "Bullet hole, courtesy of mad Nazi cyborg. Happened in an airship floating over London thirty years ago."

"What kind of gun was it?" Braven asked softly. It was the first interest he had shown in anything Integra had said to him so far.

"Walther P38."

"Did it hurt?" he continued.

"Of course. It still bugs me occasionally, when it's cold outside."

He flicked his eyes to the window. The curtains were drawn, but even so, it was clear that the weather was overcast. "It's always cold outside."

"Yeah," she replied. "At least I made him pay for it." She placed her hand on the door jamb and started to leave. "Well, nice meeting you," the wily woman said, waving over her shoulder.

"Wait!" Braven called. "Where are you going?"

"Well you wanted me to leave..." Integra replied, pointing to the scratched message on the door.

"That was for my mom," he replied.

Integra chuckled softly. Apparently she hadn't read the fine print. But she didn't turn around. "I should go anyway. Dinner is almost ready."

"I'm hungry."

"Well then," Integra answered, smiling at the child she had so easily manipulated. She gestured down the hallway and toward the stairs. "Come along."

He padded silently behind her all the way to the kitchen table, where they sat across from each other. It was a staring contest of sorts with both parties peering into the other's eyes, trying to understand what happened behind them.

"Who are you?" Braven asked at last, breaking the silence.

"I'm your Aunt Integra. And you are?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"I'm Braven Allard," he answered. "Did you come to see me?"

"And your mom too. My house is big and lonely, and I thought you might like to come stay with me for a while."

His eyes widened. It was clear that it wasn't the answer he had expected. "Why?"

Dammit. How could she explain to a child that she wanted to bring him back to London to bind his soul to a homicidal vampire with an ancient family curse? The only answer was to dodge the question. "Would you like that?"

Braven nodded. "It's boring here."

Now it was Integra's turn to nod. "I can see that. I live in London. It's the big city, where there's never a dull moment." The truth was that it was Alucard who kept things lively, not the city, but Braven didn't need to know that. At least not yet.

She could practically see the boy's ears perk up. "Do you think they have any new games for my Game Screen?" he asked, holding up the device on his wrist. "All I have is Battlefield, and it's like five years old now."

"Probably," Integra thought.

The reclusive little boy, who only minutes ago had laid lethargically in his room, barely conversing, had come to life. It was a miraculous change. She knew he was coming home with her, but there was one more step.

"Now we just have to convince your mother to let you go," she said.

As if attracted by the conversation, Justine returned with the hot slab of meat and charred corn. She started when she noticed her son sitting at the table. Her reaction told Integra that the other woman had never expected that her child would leave his room, no matter who asked him to.

"How?" she whispered in Integra's ear as she set the heavy platter on the table.

"Later," Integra whispered back.

Justine grabbed a pair of tongs and placed several slices of the medium-rare meat on her cousin's plate, and the small talk began again. "So how's the family business going?" she asked.

"Things are getting busy. I've just finished training a new batch of rookies. They can't hit the broadside of a barn yet, I'm afraid." It was then that she caught a glimpse of the red wooden building through the window, and rethought her use of the colloquialism.

"I know it's been quiet for the past several years. Maybe a little excitement is for the best," Justine commented.

"You know, it's nice for a change," Integra confirmed. "And how about your clinic? How is that going?"

"Things have been picking up. There has been a huge rash of accidents throughout the area," Justine said sadly. "Why just yesterday, I had a man show up with a fork stuck in his hand. Poor guy had no idea how it got there. He claimed that it stabbed him while he was sleeping in his armchair. He probably just fell asleep with a plate of pie and rolled onto it, or something. And then there was Farmer Browning. He got kicked by his favorite horse. It's not his favorite anymore!" She chuckled a little at her own joke and kept going. "And then there's Carol from down the road. Burns all over her arm, the poor dear. She spilled a whole pot of soup on herself."

Integra pursed her lips. Interestingly enough, it was similar to the calls that she had received lately. A woman's body laying on top of a pentagram drawn in human blood had been ruled as an elaborate suicide. A mudslide that killed ten people in the middle of the summer had supposedly been caused by a ruptured water main. And Alucard did claim that Mo's Burgers had exploded 'all by itself'... Interesting, indeed.

"Perhaps Braven would like to join me in London for a while, if you're so busy," Integra mentioned, repeating her earlier proposal.

It was clear from Justine's furrowed brow that she didn't like the idea. Perhaps she viewed Braven as _her_ problem, or perhaps she thought he could get into more trouble in a place with more people. Either way it came as no surprise when she said, "I don't know."

"Please, Mom!" Braven chimed in.

Justine looked from her son to her cousin and back again. "You do realize, Integra, that this is the first time he has said 'please' in two years, right?"

Integra's face went through several emotions. Really, what does one say to that?

"Oh alright," Justine continued, finally giving in. "Braven can you go with you."

"And what do we say, Braven?" Integra prompted, wheedling the child into using the manners his mother had taught him. She mouthed out the magic words for him.

"Thank you," Braven said flatly, clearly annoyed. It delighted Justine nonetheless.

Integra had to wonder if he would still be thankful when she explained her real reasoning. Would Alucard be thankful for a new master? She nearly snorted, almost managing to propel her corn through her nose. He wouldn't be thankful; he was going to kill something. There was little doubt in her mind that Seras would be forced into babysitting duties. There was another person who certainly wouldn't be thankful. Was she doing the right thing, enslaving Alucard for another generation? Was this what her father would have done?

It was then that she remembered his words. "Doing the right thing doesn't always make people happy," he told her every time she was in trouble. "It doesn't always make you friends, and people might even hate you for it, but you'll know inside that you are right. Your heart's opinion is the only one that matters. Listen to your heart, and you will have true integrity."

Today was the day to live up to her name, the name her father gave her. Today was just one more day that she would live her life with integrity and damn the consequences.

* * *

**Stay tuned for next chapter when Integra informs Alucard of the continuation of his curse and when Alucard meets his 'new master' for the first time.**


	2. The Scene of the Crime

Integra caught Braven by the shoulder as they ascended the winding walkway to the Hellsing Manor. He looked at her inquisitively.

"There's something I need to explain to you before we go in there," she said quietly, trying to figure out how to delicately slip a murderous Wallachian prince into the conversation.

The boy's face fell. Integra wondered what went through his mind. Did he think she would make him stay somewhere else? Did he think she was going to make him work for his room? Did he suspect that Integra lived with two vampires, one of which would undoubtedly take delight in his fear? Well maybe that last idea was a bit of a stretch, but something had certainly bothered Braven.

She sat down on the steps, patting the concrete next to her. Braven eyed her cautiously, but obeyed. Integra produced a cigar from inside her coat, her favorite: a Hendi Wizerman small. From another pocket, she withdrew her lighter. It was beat to hell, but she would never replace it; it was her mother's, after all. How that crazy woman managed to keep her habit a secret from her husband for all those years, Integra would never know.

Braven crinkled his nose as the tobacco reached his nostrils. Integra considered it the first of many unpleasant shocks the boy would receive today. For what seemed like the hundreth time, she considered just taking Braven back home and letting him life his happy, vampire-free life, and then reminded herself of the consequences.

At last, she mustered up the gumption to say, "I haven't been completely honest with you."

Braven frowned. He wasn't an idiot; he had noticed.

"I don't live alone in this crusty old mansion," the heiress said, jerking her thumb at the house high on the hill. She let out a few puffs of smoke before explaining that, "I have some... unusual housemates."

"So?" he asked. Integra wouldn't be shocked if her nephew simply intended to do as he always did and hide in his room, so perhaps he didn't mind odd neighbors. She tried a new approach.

"Has your mom ever explained what she does for a living?" Sir Hellsing asked.

"She's a doctor," he said, the condescension clear. They had discussed her patients at dinner, after all.

"Yes, but has she told you about her patients?" Integra pressed.

"She told _you_ about her patients. I was there," he informed her with more cheek than a chipmunk gathering nuts for the winter.

"Oh, the mundane farmers," she remembered. "I meant the interesting patients."

Apparently Braven thought that patients with burns and misplaced forks were interesting, for he raised an eyebrow at her, letting it vanish into his overgrown bangs.

"She hasn't, has she?" Integra sighed. Justine always was so cautious, so protective of the boy. It was a shame; it would have made this explanation a hell of alot easier. "Your mom does more than kiss the boo-boos of some farmer's wife who can't manage to keep her cutlery from piercing her skin. She treats patients that would make those simpletons' skin crawl. Let me tell you a story," she started, taking a long drag on her cigar, letting the hot air fill her lungs with the substance she craved. "I was about fifteen, I think, which would make your mom nine, our parents got together for dinner, which naturally bored the living daylights out of us excused ourselves from the table, Justine and I, and went out into the woods behind her house where her father - your grandfather, I suppose - had built her a treehouse and swing. The thing is, it was the middle of summer, and the sun sets faster than you expect it to. We were out there in the dark, and I'm sure you've had enough lectures from my dear cousin to know what wait for you out there, should you wander off. She had them too, growing up. I didn't, but then again, I grew up here. The only trees for miles are planted, and tended to by overpaid gardeners. That's why I thought nothing of the dark. Justine, however, knew better. She heard it long before I did, those footsteps padding around the foot of the tree... it was a gulon."

"Huh?" Braven interrupted.

"Right. You're new to these things. It's a cat... dog... fox... thing. Okay I'm not really sure what it is, but it's a predatory animal, and a very hungry one at that. Justine peeked out the treehouse window to see what it was, and noticed that it was limping. 'It'll eat us,' I said. 'Don't go down there,' I said, but your mom... well she always was a stubborn one. She climbed right down that tree and ignored everything I said, absolutely fearless. Instead of running like most girls her age, she started talking to the creature. 'You're bleeding,' and 'I can help,' and things like that. She was just a little chatterbox, and apparently the creature liked that. He let her feel his bloody leg, and sure enough, your mom found a big ol' thorn in there. She plucked it out and the gulon just whimpered. To this day, I'm convinced it would have bitten anyone else, but not Justine. She just smiled at it and told it to eat lots of chickweed and yarrow and sent it on its merry way."

The boy muttered something that sounded an awful lot like 'bullshit.'

"You watch your language, young man," Integra chided. "And it's one-hundred percent true. Your mom still deals with atypical patients: hippogryphs, lycans, telekhine... She even treated an incubus a few years back. You should have heard how he tried to pay her!"

"Why are you telling me this?" Braven demanded.

"Your mom's not the only one who deals with unusual folks. I happen to live with some of them."

Braven snorted. "Yeah right."

"Well scoff all you like," Integra said, putting out her cigar on the step. "You're going to meet them." She stood up, conducting a symphony of pops and crackles as all her joints readjusted. The Hellsing director then extended her hand to the child. "Come along."

Braven ignored her hand, but complied, following her up to the oversized twin doors. She knocked twice, pursing her lips when the doors didn't budge. Thankfully, they opened after a second set of knocks.

"Practice, Bertram," Integra chided as she stepped inside and handed her coat to the sharply dressed gentleman who answered the door. "You must practice."

"My apologies, Miss Hellsing," the butler replied.

"You must excuse him, Braven. He's new," she explained to the new resident. "This is Bertram, my butler," she introduced. Then she turned to the middle-aged man. "Bertram, meet my nephew Braven. He'll be staying with us for a while."

"A pleasure, young master Braven," he replied with a bow.

"Would you be so kind as to show him to the guest suite?" Integra requested. "I'd like to put my things down."

"Of course, ma'am," Bertram replied. Braven gave her a calculated stare as he followed the butler down a picturesque hallway, but Integra simply waved him along and headed up the stairs to her rooms, intending to kick off her shoes and empty her pockets.

She sensed what was about to happen as soon as she closed her bedroom door behind her. To be honest, she should have expected it.

"So who's the kid?" Alucard demanded, materializing from the wall. She hated it when he did that.

"You know, Alucard, most people knock," she intoned as she sat down on the bed to take off her shoes.

"Did you have a son while I wasn't looking?" he demanded, ignoring her jibe.

Integra snorted in a most unladylike fashion. "What? No!" she laughed, dismissing his question with a wave of his hand.

"He's too young to be a new employee..." mused the vampire. "I don't get it." He crossed the gap to his master with a few long strides, invading her personal space. "You're not telling me something."

Integra shoved him back with an amused chuckle. "That's nothing out of the ordinary."

"I am well aware," he said, clearly annoyed by that fact. "But this is something important..."

She swung her bare feet up onto the bed, resting on her side with an arm under her cheek. "If you must know, he's my nephew. He was having behavior problems at home."

"And this was a cheaper option than military school. I see," Alucard intoned. "And?"

"What do you mean 'and?'," she said incredulously, realizing her lying abilities weren't exactly up to snuff.

"Fine. Don't tell me," Alucard sighed. "I'll just go ask him."

Integra sat straight up. "NO!" she said hastily, her voice too loud for the room. Realizing her mistake, she smiled weakly. "No, that's quite alright. I'll go check in on the boy... see how he likes his new room." She abandoned the bed and made for the door, not that she made it that far. A rather solid chest barred her path. "Oh just leave it alone, Alucard!" she spat in frustration.

"Who. Is the kid. It's a simple enough question," the vampire insisted.

Integra pursed her lips. She gave him a direct order: leave it alone. He shouldn't be able to disobey. It was just one more sign of her ancestors' curse weakening. She set her jaw and walked around him with a defiant look in her eyes. "Leave it alone," she repeated as she walked out the door. The Hellsing director knew that he obeyed this time not out of a magical sense of obligation, but out of a learned fear of that expression.

Bertram certainly wasn't Walter, but he was learning. Integra soon discovered that he had chosen the suite next to her own study for Braven's quarter. It was a good location; she could keep an eye on the boy from here. She knocked on the door, calling his name, and was entirely unsurprised when he didn't answer. He was probably busy with his Game... Thing, or whatever it was called.

Integra opened the door a crack, hoping the boy wasn't changing or doing anything else potentially embarrassing. As she peered through the crack, she sighed with relief; he was staring at his wrist, completely enthralled with two miniature knights running around on the glowing screen. "Braven," she called again, rapping on the door once more. "Can I come in?"

Integra took his silence as an unspoken 'yes,' and walked in. She sat down on the edge of the bed where her nephew was reclining with his video game. "How do you like the room?" she asked, trying to break the strained silence.

"S'nice," he replied.

"Good... good..." she said with a smile. Her happy expression faded as the silence returned. "Look," she started softly. "I know my story earlier was hard to believe." It was an understatement to be honest. What kid would believe that his mother spent her free time stitching up lacerations on werewolves or splinting broken branches for tree nymphs? "I was trying to explain this outside, but your mother and I - our whole family, really - is involved in far more than most people know. My father, your grandfather, and their fathers before them, all the way back to our ancestor Abraham van Hellsing, maybe even before him... We've protected mankind from threats they dismissed as fiction."

"Prove it," he said. If she had proof, it was time to show it.

"Prove what?" said a voice from behind Braven.

Integra tried to suppress a smile; the boy's thought process was transparent. She watched him look at her, realize where the voice came from and that it didn't belong to her, and then...

"...G-g-ghost!" he stammered, launching himself from the four-poster bed as if from a cannon. The boy rolled when he hit the carpet, hiding behind his aunt's chair.

"I'm not a ghost!" the newcomer protested.

"Speaking of..." Integra laughed. "Seras, we were just talking about you." She continued to snicker as she watched Braven peer from behind her chair to examine the perpetual nineteen-year-old. Seras was no ghost; she was a corporeal being minus her shadowy arm. The skin, if it could even be called that, was black and writhing, and seemed to blend into the shadows themselves. Integra could understand how the child might find it a bit difficult to accept, and from the look on his face, he was still processing it.

Seras smiled just a tad wider to reveal her pointed fangs. "Saying good things, I hope."

"But... but..." Braven murmured, a little lost for words.

"Ah!" Integra cried. "Where are my manners? Seras, this is Braven. Braven, this is your proof," she said with a smirk as she gestured between the other two people in the room.

"How did you... how?" the boy continued to wonder. To answer his question, Seras reached toward the wall with her shadow arm. Braven watched in amazement as the wall around it vanished as if frightened of whatever hellish substance that arm was made of. "I don't need doors," she explained.

"At least you knock most of the time," Integra muttered under her breath.

"Master has a nasty habit of... Right!" The blond girl slapped her forehead. "I came in here to tell you that the scanners picked up something."

"Damn," Integra swore. "This had better not be another tabloid story. If I have to hear one more drunken redneck's wife talk about-"

Seras interrupted. "A body was found levitating in midair."

Integra stood up immediately and sprang into action, heading for the door. Seras fell into stride behind her. The older woman withdrew her cell phone from her pants pocket, dialing the numbers she had long since memorized. "Dispatch," she said into the receiver, "I am authorizing you to send a control team to..." She paused, realizing Seras hadn't given her the address. The vampiress handed her tablet to Integra, pointing out the location of their new victim. "To 49 Lavender Way in Ealing, if necessary," the director relayed. "Be prepared to field calls from London PD."

"Details, Seras," Integra asked, as she pocketed the phone, call complete.

"Scanners say the police were called out at 4:03 PM," the draculina reported as Braven caught up to them. He was curious about the crime scene no doubt. "The lead detective's notes describe a caucasian woman in her mid-forties, brunette, sixty-six kilograms. Medical history was clear, no autopsy report...

"That's surprising," Integra snorted as she started down a flight of stairs heading for the foyer.

"She was divorced - two children, but the father has custody - and has lived alone for several years now, though her neighbors say she was rarely without visitors," Seras continued, trotting alongside her boss.

"Visitors?" the Hellsing director mused, her heels clacking on the tile. "Male visitors? Do we have more details about the divorce?"

"No," the eternal teenager said, "but I think I know what you're thinking: cheating wife, right? I'll talk to the ex-husband."

"Talk to Alucard first," Integra ordered as her hand closed on the front foor.

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing. When she opened her eyes, she said, "He'll meet us there."

"Where is he?" Sir Hellsing groaned.

"He went for a walk," Seras relayed.

"Nothing good ever comes from that man's walks," Integra sighed. The two women, Braven trailing behind, closed in on the Hellsing director's government-issued sedan. The older woman tossed her keys to Seras, making for the passenger seat saying, "You drive."

Seras closed the door behind herself first, with Integra following suit mere seconds later. Both jumped when the third door slammed; they had forgotten about Braven.

"Braven, go back inside," Integra barked, in a hurry to leave before her crime scene became farther contaminated.

"But I want to see!" he protested. "Please, Aunt Integra!"

"No! It's dangerous," the protective aunt insisted, thinking of her cousin. "Your mother would never-"

"That's why I'm here, isn't it? My mother just wants me out of her hair, and now so do you!"

It was a deep, pain-filled statement from a boy who had only lived for eleven short years. Integra's heart went out to him for a brief moment before the adrenaline of the investigation took back over. "Seras, get us out of here," she sighed. "And you!" the Hellsing director continued, rounding on her nephew, "You are to stay in the car. I don't know what we'll find once we get there, but I don't want you getting hurt. You hear me?"

Braven nodded, buckling up as Seras threw the vehicle into reverse. It was about a thirty minute drive past Charing Cross and through downtown to the administrative heart of London: Ealing. Seras frowned every once in awhile, which Integra chalked up to Alucard. She was grateful that her curse prevented the No-Life King from poking around in her mind, and blessed Seras for putting up with the invasion. Braven turned on his Game Screen mere seconds after he sat down. Aside from an occasional beep from the game's interface, the trio made it to Ealing in complete silence. Integra wondered how long it would take to locate the crime scene. The answer? Not long.

True to his word, Alucard met them outside the house, inclining his head respectfully at his aging master. That was as far as his respect went though. "Did you stop for tea on your way out here?" he asked sarcastically.

"Traffic through downtown was horrendous," Seras protested as she locked the car behind her, shutting Braven in with only his game for company.

"Don't respond to his heckling, Seras," Integra warned, sparing one last look for her nephew as they walked up the driveway of 49 Lavender Way. She flattened her hair and straightened out her shirt, trying her best to look professional before raising a finger to the doorbell. The sound echoed throughout the house. There was no answer, so Integra tried the doorknob. Locked.

"Alucard, if you please," she commanded, gesturing at the door and stepping back to the minimum safe distance. The vampire sauntered up to the door with a confident smile and placed his hand on the doorknob. Integra cringed at the sound of squealing metal as her servant turned the handle with such indescribable strength that he shattered the bolt that barred their entry.

"After you, Master," Alucard replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

Seras led the way inside, consulting the London PD's records on her tablet. "The victim was found in the sitting room," she informed the others. "This way," she directed, leading them from the doorway, down a short hallway, and into a brightly lit room. It was clear that this was where the bulk of the investigation had taken place. Sheets of plastic covered the windows to shield the investigation from the prying eyes of curious neighbors. Plastic signs numbers one through fourteen traced the pieces of evidence still in the room when the crime scene closed for the investigators' dinner break. The victim's body was gone, but its outline had been sketched on the floor. Integra laughed softly; the outline included dashed lines and a few arrows as though a nervous police intern had tried to denote that the body hadn't actually lain on the floor, but rather two meters above.

"Who was she?" Seras asked, shattering the silence.

"You're the one with the police data at your fingertips," Integra replied.

"Not the victim!" the draculina corrected. She pointed to the picture over the fireplace. "Her."

"Mary Ann Heartly."

The whole room turned to look at Braven, wondering how the heck he knew the answer and, more importantly, why he was here.

"I thought we agreed that you would wait in the car!" Integra hissed, glancing nervously at

"How'd you know that?" Seras asked, wondering how the eleven-year-old had read the police reports on her tablet when it had been in her hands the whole time.

The boy shrugged. After a long moment of silence, he hesitantly answered, "Internet."

"The victim's mother-in-law," Seras added as her fingers flew across her tablet. "There are rumors that her ghost haunts the house."

Integra snorted. She had seen all manner of improbable creatures: vampires, werewolves, illusionists... even Nazi cyborgs. But never in all her years had she seen a ghost. Never in all her years had she even heard a real ghost story from a credible person. All the so-called psychics and ghost hunters she had met were frauds and charlatans for the amusement of the gullible masses. The self-proclaimed eye witnesses were drunkards and drug addicts, so brain-addled that she was surprised they recognized her presence. As for their proof... well why was it that they seemed to take blurry, unrecognizable shots every damn time? As far as she was concerned, ghosts were fantasy.

"Whatever they say," Integra sniggered. "Any _real_ information?"

Seras nodded. "Mrs. Heartly died in 1994. She had a reputation as kind of... as a not very ni- ... she was a-"

"A complete bitch," Alucard finished.

"Yes, that," Seras agreed. "She called the police so many times that they stopped accepting calls from this number. She filed complaints about almost every neighbor within a kilometer, and some of them have filed complaints against her as well. Apparently she set one man's lawn on fire when she felt it grew too high, slashed the tires on the paper boy's bike when he arrived late, yelled racist comments at people she felt were loitering... the list goes on for a while. And of course, she was a busybody. The reports from the next-door neighbors claim that Mrs. Heartly spied on them with binoculars and kept records of their comings and goings."

"She sounds like a lovely individual," Integra replied, rolling her eyes. "Why keep a picture of her, then?"

Seras opened her mouth to answer, but she never got the chance. She exchanged a look with Alucard; he had heard it too.

"Sounds like dinner break is over," Alucard said simply, grabbing his master's shoulder and steering her toward the backyard.

Seras rushed for the front door, standing on her toes to peer through the peep hole. "They parked right next to the car."

"Can we leave it?" Integra asked.

"Two hour parking," Alucard replied with a shake of his head. "They'll realize something is wrong if we don't move the car, and they'll be investigating here for a while."

"Shit," Integra swore. Now she could hear the footsteps on the pavement outside, the rise and fall of the officers' voices as they approached the door. The director jerked her head toward the stairs. Alucard and Seras raced up them, their footfalls silent on the carpeted steps. Integra sighed; her fifty-eight-year-old body didn't appreciate the strain as she hurried after the two vampires. She was wheezing by the time she reached the top of the flight, but the creak of the front door pressed her aging limbs to move faster. Seras snatched her hand and pulled her into a bedroom. The draculina passed her on to Alucard, who helped his master into the walk-in closet. Seras closed the door behind them.

"Shit," Integra swore again, much softer this time.

"Master?" Seras asked.

"Where's Braven?"

* * *

Braven saw the front door open before he even realized what was going on. He saw his aunt vanish up the stairs, but there was no time to follow. He ran in the other direction. He passed through the kitchen and into the dining room, running even faster as he heard the police speaking behind him.

"I don't know how my key got stuck," one was saying. "Someone must have damaged the lock!"

The boy flinched. The police had already realized that someone had broken in. Aunt Integra, the freaky blonde girl, and the scary guy in red had made it upstairs. They were in the clear, but he was not. The cops were going to catch them, and he was going to go to jail, and something told him that he would not do well there. He ripped open the glass slider to the backyard, rushing out onto the green grass, his eyes searching for a place to hide. Flowers! Perfect. He dived into them.

"Someone has definitely been in here," an officer was commenting. "This door was wide open!"

Braven tried his best to sink deeper into his flowery hiding spot. He dug his fingers into the dirt, grabbing so soil for camouflage. He nearly cried out in pain when he bashed his finger against something hard in his desperate panic. Then he realized what he had hit. Surrounded by a bed of flowers was a slab of granite. Even upside down, he could read the inscription:

_Mary Ann Heartly_

_1932-1994_

_Loving Mother of Kevin Heartly _

_Rest in Peace_

The boy turned pale as a ghost as he realized that it was a headstone.

"What are you doing?!" a voice demanded loudly.

Braven felt his blood turn to ice as he realized who had spoken. He had seen her before; her portrait hung inside, right over the fireplace.

"Get off my grave, idiot boy!" she shrieked.

Before him, shimmering in the sun, stood the very angry ghost of Mary Ann Heartly.

* * *

**Shameless plug no jutsu!**

**If you're enjoy reading my work, please check out _Hellsing: Atonement_ on the _Team Dragon Star_ page. In it, the Hellsing Organization faces a threat while Alucard is gone. The vicious Blood Pack, a pack of werewolves, terrorize London, and their masters, Stalin's Hammer, grow more powerful by the day. Come see what DevilsDoCry and I have in store for Sir Integra and Seras, and while you're there, check out our other Hellsing fics: _Predator on Halloween_and _Bored Meeting._**


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